Wheeeeee!!!!!
I just got back to my desk from lunch. A little while ago, my husband called from his cell phone, saying, "I'm about five minutes from your office. Want to have lunch?" I said sure, and hung up. (Well, you know, we said good-bye first. I wasn't raised in a barn.*)
So I locked my workstation and went out to the front sidewalk. It is a gorgeous day - sunny, about 60F, with light breezes - and I enjoyed just being out there. I sang the venite softly while I waited, because it just seemed appropriate. (Okay, so I'm a strange duck. And this surprises you?)
I was expecting him to arrive in something like this:
Instead, the hubster arrived on this:
He hopped off, opened the storage compartment, and pulled out this:
We actually bought the scoot for me, because motorcycle parking is ample at the university, and I could take the carpool lane on the highway, but it's too tall for me, and I have a hard time getting moving from a stop on it. I've only ridden on it in a parking lot, not on the road, so I was a little nervous. Anxious. Frightened. Nail-bitingly terrified. So I swallowed, and I took a breath, and I hopped on. Okay, it wasn't so much a hop, as an undignified stretch, but I've never been able to mount a horse gracefully, either, especially with my short little legs.
We went around the corner to a sub shop (hoagie, grinder, hero, whatever), had a quick bite, and rode back. The bike was admired at the sub shop, and when we returned, I grabbed a couple of co-workers to show them the bike, and especially my PINK helmet. When I made the daisy comment, the ladies smiled and nodded, and the men said, "Okay, I've got to get back to work."
Men!
*Okay, the "I wasn't raised in a barn" thing. One of my favorite bad religious jokes is this one: Jesus dashes out the front door to play, leaving it swinging open behind him. Mary shouts to him, "Jesus, close that door! You'd think you were born in a barn!" Ba-dum-bum.
